(Aria’s POV)

The hours before dawn were a blur of movement, grief, and whispered arguments carried through the smoky air. Fires smoldered where the rogues had torn through, leaving half-charred beams and broken homes behind. Wolves rushed back and forth, binding wounds, gathering what little they could carry. Children clung to their mothers, eyes wide and hollow, while warriors limped, too proud to show how badly they bled.

I moved among them with my family, my cloak pulled tight against ...